On a lighter note, L and I will be heading out tomorrow morning to catch the 9:00 AM sailing, and hopefully R and G will hook up with us since they are presumably taking the same ferry. We left my grandma's card and gift at my parent's house (ouch) but my dad might drop it off before we book it. We had a great time at my folk's place, well, we had a long lunch before (we were going to have breakfast but we bumped into K(!) last night while wandering downtown and I drank far, far too much at Big Bad Johns and a club he DJ's at. Lotsa fun we had, catching up and gossiping and everything!) and we dropped by for dinner (more like a feast) and played this fun family game called Break the Safe; a cooperative game where four players have to open a safe in thirty minutes. I will not go into the filthy details. My mom packed us a bunch of baked goods for the trip home. Thanks mom!
When we get back I plan to get the house in order, buy books, comics, clothes and a game (wheee!) and spend some time with my cat. I have no idea, really no idea, how to get my New Year's on. Why is there is this strange pressure to "do" something? I try to shake it off but I feel left out when I sit at home and read whatever books/surf the net/write something lame as people make drunken messes of themselves. I want to be a drunken mess.
I'm trying to hook up with friends but so far, no success. I think I took down a wrong number for C's cell phone, and another friend isn't home. So we're taking it easy in our hotel room. Here is a list what I got for X-mas, read'em and weep:
A chef's knife
S-cable adapator for the laptop
Chocolate, a ton of chocolate
A book on tofu and miso
$75 from my parents, plus some from my grandma (thanks granny!)
$25 gift card to Chapters/Indigo
A book on the illustrator who painted covers for Star Wars novels and other stuff
Fencing lessons! I start in January!
A miniture house for a Christmas village
There is some other stuff but I can't remeber everything!
I think I'll pick up the Louis Riel graphic novel from Chester Brown, and Project Nomads (a neat-o game) and possibly a new jacket or jeans. Consume!
Done. Let's move on.
I was rather fond of Warren Ellis' summary of this forgettable year, like most most years I've had in my short twenty-eight years. Well, it would be untrue if my current "reeducation" wasn't notable in the last three hundred and sixty-five days. I am relieved, and thankful, to return to the glorious halls of academia and drink the sweet, sweet nectar that oozes from. . .it's ooze-hole. I dunno. But it I do feel like a completed human, rather than trying to operate with missing parts, and I can complete projects with a degree of confidence reserved for generals and guys who work-out regularly (this is why I hate summer).
The political atmosphere for the next four years is going to be interesting. American politics has a way of affecting Canada, as our politicians attempt to appease the suited gorilla or resist whatever senseless (senseless to the public good, but it is a brilliant strategem for the wealthy and powerful) policies cooked up in the White House. Ottawa is not too keen on the whole Middle East occupation, plus Paul Martin has slung some dirt at the Americans on a few occasions - the support for gay marriage in Canada is totally hilarious, since many states despise the idea. I can't help but think this is Ottawa's way of giving the finger behind Goliath's back. Don't get me wrong, Martin is far from perfect. I am pleased that he picked up on the whole "U.S.A. is not O.K." vibe in Canada (in some parts, if not most) but the man needs to get off his ass and shake it a little. I will complain on this later.
But, 2004 will be remembered for the changes - my new school, my new house and my new computer, which I am typing on this very minute. I love you, lappy. I have gotten closer to my family, and L and I spent another year building our relationship, unless she is watching Christmas-themed sitcoms on cable. *shiver* I will vow to toss our television into the deepest ocean and watch it sink deeper and deeper into the cold abyss. Televisions should only be used for movies (film for you arty people) and the occasional video game.
And a brief note on Christmas traditions: as I live longer, I crave to forge my own holiday traditions. Meaning, I will indulge in rich foods, potent booze, and Silent Night, Deadly Night. Comics, books, laptop and games - together at last. Cheers!
I'm off to get some Christmas shopping done, so I'm bringing a cricket bat and a tazer to navigate through the downtown crowds. Or maybe I'll bring my cat and throw him at people's faces. Either way, I'm getting the goods and there isn't anything the public can do to stop me. I think I need to grab a bite, 'cause the low blood sugar is making me violent.
Last day of school was on Tuesday, although I finished classes last week I had four exams to write. English and anthropology went well, but my archaeology was a challenge - there was one question I didn't even have an answer for. I plowed through my history exam but the short essay question had me searching the ceiling for an answer. Luckily, I dug up some good lines.
OK, I'm off to get this shopping thing done. Wish me luck and I will return with anecdotes, boring or otherwise. Read my Christmas list! Bow before it!
An Archive of Feelings by Ann Cvetkovich - These books were suggetions on the Le Tigre homepage, and I'm always up for new books. I totally missed them when they were here. Groan.
The Spanish Civil War - I liked writing my paper on this subject, so a reference of my own would be nice. I plan to write more on anarchist history and maybe even something on Canadian women who volunteered in Spain.
Chef's knife - 'Cause I gotta.
Hellboy DVD - I like the comic, so sue me.
Gangs of New York DVD - I like history, and yeah, this film tends to lean towards historicism. However, it's nice to see another vision of the past, one that is dirty, snarling, backstabbing, poor and political. Screw you, Road to Avonlea. I don't care if some uppity bourgeois pre-teen from the turn of the century soiled her bonnet, and needs to get a new one before the Huge Society Ball. I really couldn't care about the whining middle-class, or the boring super-rich that supposedly "shaped" nations. Gangs of New York argues that cities are built from the street up.
Fencing classes - En guarde!
Okay, I going to clean up and head outta this campus, laters skaters.
PS: We got some light flurries this morning. Little flakes landed on my shoulders as I walked to school. Luckily, they were not dandruff.
Today is kind of an exception. I have a final quiz for social theory tomorrow so I have to review and catch up on material. But since C has just showed up for tea, I should finish this up while he reads Y: The Last Man #29. In summary, all is good. I need to got to the gym and lose some weight for the holidays, and I have to finish four exams and shop for Christmas presents. More later.
Now I have to go out and buy cat food. Yep, that's an old person activity.
I have finished the English paper and now I'm finishing up the sociology paper tonight, giving me four days to complete my eight page history paper. I am dreaming about Christmas holidays already, despite my annoyance with the super-early Christmas ads everywhere. I plan to write, read, and play video games. And throw snowballs, weather permitting. My holiday wishlist:
Bizarro Comics: Hardcover
Flight: Book One
From Hell by Alan Moore and Eddie Campbell
Torso by Brian Michael Bendis
New day pack: MEC Cragosaurus DayPack
Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic
Comic book box
Moby Dick by Herman Melville
Neal Stephensen's second and third installment of the Baroque Cycle
Any books by Louis-Ferdinad Celine
Introduction to Wine
1. I have been reading like fiend. School stuff aside, I've been reading some Robert Creeley and C.R.R. Martin. I'm looking forward to reading Stephenson's second book, which is already out. So is the third. I am behind.
2. School is going well. I'm a little behind on my history reading but otherwise I'm up to date. I'm in the middle of crunch time so it really sucks to be around me right now. For English, a comparison of Emily Dickinson and Edna St. Vincent Millay, for history a paper on the anarchist contribution in the Spanish Civil War and an analysis of two articles for social theory class.
3. I like work. I wish I didn't have to come in this week but, well, there's that whole responsibility thing. Stupid conscience.
4. On the domestic front, everything is running smoothly. It gets a little cold in the house and the heating is not altogether fabulous but we manage to survive. I haven't had a chance to do some serious cooking, but I plan to get back into cuisine from Provence and maybe experiment with sushi. I am wicked at making sushi.
5. Oh, comics. Um, let's see. . .I'm still addicted to Bendis's Daredevil and I want to pick up Torso. I picked up Warren Ellis's new book Ocean and I'm still waiting for Wanted, Ex Machina and We3 to finish up so we can all go home. I'm looking forward to Shaolin Cowboy, Daisy Cutter, and the Flight book that came out recently. I asked for Bizarro Comics for X-Mas.
And, Happy Birthday Dad!
Work is fun - it keeps me off the streets and everything! I'm slowly catching up on schoolwork (for tonight, finish outline for English paper) and I'm looking forward to Cinemuerte this weekend. I'm defintely staying for the Exploitation Film Marathon Saturday night.
I must admit I'm a tad (how much is a tad?) behind on some of my readings, so I will have to buckle down, or up depending on circumstances, and get it done. Archaeology is still fun and I have a rich depth of understanding of my "hobby". Some of you good people are wondering, "how can archaeology/the other stuff you listed be a hobby?" For the most part, I read and discuss the stuff as much as possible, plus I follow stuff online if I can dig up a reliable source. Besides comics and books, I don't really collect or think about conventional hobbies. So, scholarly pursuits are fair game.
I will plan on entering more posts later; I am tired and and I have a class tomorrow, and my recent update is a very, very demanding.
L and I will be over at her folks place for Sunday (although we will be leaving tomorrow) then head over to the Island Sunday night and then leave Monday night, while dragging around books and the laptop. I have two papers to finish plus I have to collect sources for my history class, two of which must be primary, and keep up with my short story.
I do have some worries, and guess what? I'm going to tell to you! Feel free to move along at this point.
Well, (my roommate begins those sentences where he is about to explain something with "well". Now I'm doing it. Fappo!) my main concern is the whole competency thing. I'm getting paid to do this, and I can't afford to screw up. There is a great deal of responsibility with this gig, maybe more than previous ones. And the responsibility does give me a stomach ache, and a pasty mouth. That could be dehydration though. Anyway, yeah, my worries are probably shared by those in super important jobs, but the spectre of low self-esteem and fear is crawling towards me. Help.
I've heard that word
it becomes a lake of lights
floating on the surface of our
being, of our inability to die
when we tear our bars
away away how our sunken
poems clear-eyed girls walk
my mouth is open
filled with crows
when your hands
fall on your thighs
On Saturday, K called me in the afternoon to tell me that my good buddy W was in town; they had been cycling around Burnaby Mountain and were about to attend a bike art show/street party. I made my way to K's house so we can all go together but. . .they weren't there! I walked over on my own and the boys arrived later, which is funny because they biked over, and little old me was bikeless. The party was awesome, especially the tank bike (two office chairs welded onto self-propelled homemade tank treads) plus other neat-o creations.
We drank too much, everyone danced like fools (except me, I ain't dancin' for no one) and we tried to take the five-person bike for a ride. Despite the creator's blessings, we were denied an exit. W and K doubled me back to K's house, which is fun and scary when inebriated, and was able to get a deal on our delivered pizza (gyros for the meat-eaters) when we discovered we were short by a few dollars. We woke up to T's glorious breakfast of fruit salad and homemade croissants (T totally thinks her croissants sucked, but I loved them! They were tasty! And homemade!) and after digging in K and T's garden, we were treated to a visit from C. Fun weekend.
Now I have to work on a paper. Hurray.
Anthropology class was fun, and we finished early! We had a quiz (I actually got to class to write it!) and I got 38 out of 40, that's like 95%-98% or something. I'm sure you folks out there have better math skills than I do. I would like to take biology some time, but I object to dissecting animals that were bred for that specific purpose. I've been meaning to send an email to the department head and get some information on alternatives.
Hm. I just remembered, I have history paper to work on.
J.(not me) called from the Learning Centre to confirm my interview. I have to bring in an essay and a research paper, plus a reference from one of my instructors. I got the reference, now I just have to pick two of my best papers. I don't have a true research paper, although my history paper from two terms ago may qualify (a comparative look at two non-fiction books) as a contender. The essay portion is not a problem.
I'm not reading anything too interesting, mostly school stuff and little snippets here and there. Still plowing through Stephenson, and reading some early twentieth century fantasy and contemporary media studies. Some Gramsci when I get a chance.
As of today names will not be written with a "." anymore, just the letter. The spellcheck has a hard time dealing with my flourishes.
1. School is going well, but the assignment crunch is just around the corner, plus exams. I'm going to look at primary source materials on the Sacco-Vanzetti trial in the twenties, and analyze my friend T.'s painting for social theory class.
2. I have to fulfill some doctor/dentist obligations.
3. I put in an application for the peer tutor job in Learning Centre, right here on campus. I'm scheduled for an interview next week. I've tutored before, but I only worked with adults with low literacy skills, not suave college kids. I'm totally up for the challenge; it's remarkable how many students have trouble writing essays. I mean, I'm no Shakespeare (more like a Byron) but even I know what a dangling modifier is.
4. In my last post, or two posts ago, I used the word "lurching" wrong. So. Embarrassed.
5. "Schoolwork is lurching behind me." That would be better.
6. My sleep schedule is back in black, now if only I can eliminate my bad eating habits.
I'm currently drinking coffee, sewing up a couple of shirts, and planning to polish my boots (I only wear Blundstones these days) and do some homework. I have a chess date later; I'm trying to find a strong defense against R.'s opening.
On that note, I just saw Spider-Man 2 again. One of the best super-hero film so far, next to Hellboy. I think Raimi had learned from previous filmmakers mistakes, like not deviating too far from the original story and adding some plausibility to the textures, colours and overall architecture of the film. Aunt May's house, Peter's apartment and Harry's penthouse all have distinct personalities that add a human dimension - they look and feel like living, breathing human spaces.
K. 's house got broken into again. That totally sucks, and it must be so uncomfortable staying in a house that doesn't feel safe.
Besides that, I'm about to dive into social theory and some archaeology. A big shout out to C. for coming over and hanging out with us. A truly fun guy.
Oh yeah, before I sign off, I should mention that we went out for pizza at Unc's (Uncle Fatih) and the pizza we had knocked Pizza Garden out of the ring. Little or no grease, generous and unique toppings, and now they have dessert pizzas. So, there is now a new contender - the place with no name downtown! Who will be emerge victorious? Stay tuned!
There was some tragedy, though. On our way home home, L. and I saw a juvenile gull sitting in the middle of a busy road, and vehicles were trying to drive around him(er). We were wondering why the gull wasn't moving, and that's when I noticed that the bird's wing was broken. Then a SUV tried to swerve around the poor creature and just missed, bouncing the gull around. In a true heroic fashion, L. leapt into the road and picked up the gull and took him(er) across the street. Luckily, there was a security guard nearby who would take the gull and drive to the S.P.C.A. An elderly woman helped them properly tuck in the gulls injured wing. I remember some guy yelling "put'em out of his misery" and offered to do the grisly job, so I'm thankful that L. was there to save the day.
If you live in the Lower Mainland and see an injured wild animal, contact these folks.
All I have to do is write this simple sentence and everyone will understand the complex connations associated with it.
I'm still reeling from my last day of summer, that being Labour Day. Well, not the actual last day of summer, but my free-wheeling days are over for now. On Sunday I got a call for R., who has been on a two week expedition in Cuba with his lovely girlfriend G. They had landed in Toronto, and I remembered that I offered them our place to crash when they arrived, which would be around midnight. Unfortunately, their flight was delayed, and they may miss the last bus into town. So, L. and I, while at a lovely barbecue (thanks J. and J.) decided that we would surprise our friends and show up at the airport to pick them up. After our soiree L. booked a car and we made our way to the airport. When R. and G. saw us at the arrival gate, the look on their faces was classic.
The next day, after a leisurely breakfast, and a stimulating conversation (any opportunity for me to talk about the anthropology of narrative building is a good one) they left for the Island. Oh, I should mention that when I say (write?) Island, I mean Vancouver Island.
While we were entertaining R. and G., my friend K. called and we arranged to get together and rebuild the fence in his backyard. The fence has the ardenous task of separating K.'s house with the alley, but the sucker is leaning so badly he has to tie it down like a overactive dog. Minutes after R. and G's departure, K. and T. came by to pick me up. K. and I dumpstered some two-by-fours from a demo site nearby, and set off to work: we removed the fence and re-nailed it, dug four holes (two for each side of the jamb, the posts were nearly composted), nailed the two-by-fours to each side of the posts, poured quick-dry concrete into the holes then refilled them. The job about three and half hours. We were dirty, tired, hungry, and had rebuilt a fence using second hand materials.
Lately I've been interested in pulp sci-fi magazines, and their luscious covers. I found a neato site that has an impressive collection of pulp art. I have a small, nebulous idea for a comic or possibly short stories, that echo this genre's qualities. I see some potential for exploring gender roles, technology, and ethics in contemporary society. I want to scrap the film script for now and focus on the penny dreadfuls and the comic. For those who don't know, penny dreadfuls were the Victorian version of the pulp novel. They were serialized (some of them anyway) and, well, cost a penny. That's that whole Victorian/Weird Tales idea I had kicking around.
Hm. The cat just leapt onto my lap. I think he wants to type something:
So, if we take my kitty's contribution and isolate a few fragments:
Sad fly. Sadfly? I think the cat wants to be fed.
1. Get a haircut. Done. I like it.
2. Shave off beard. Done. My chin is exposed.
3. Buy new clothes. Student loan is racing to my house.
4. Get laptop. Will be ordered this week. G4 iBook, with Airport Card. I intend to upgrade the video card.
Tonight I will make veggie pot pie, and possibly a green salad. Maybe beer. That is all.
As school approaches fast I'm now in a position to reflect upon my summer. It was good. I only wish I could have gotten some climbing in, but the week has just started. I do, however, have a deadline to meet and books to return, so that does limit my time outside. I am getting a haircut this week. Wish me luck.
There is a small battle being waged in my house regarding chores. From my perspective, I do most of the work and everyone else slacks off. I proposed an observation period that will determine who does exactly what around here. I will make an calendar and record who makes a mess and who cleans it up, being as objective as possible. I know this sounds a little extreme, but sometimes the icy stare of scientific inquiry is the only method to solve domestic problems.
I am currently sipping yummy coffee and wating for my hashbrowns to cook. I've been into food from Provence lately, although the last few nights I have been trying out some Italian antipastos, simple stuff like crostini. The problem with some of the French dishes is the inclusion of fish and fish stock, and I'm a strict veggie. What's really weird is that these recipies are in the Moosewood cookbook, which is a mostly vegetarian restaurant. You would think they would create subsitutes for the non-fish eating crowd.
Oh, and about the best buck-a-slice in town contest. Pizza Garden has gotten less greasy, so I will make a trip to Unc's to see how they handle the grease issue. Unc's has currently won the in "most generous toppings" category.
I am broke. Need student loan. Need comics.
1. Get a haircut. Maybe.
2. Trim my beard. I see too many guys with the same beard. It has to go.
3. Get some new clothes.
4. Purchase a laptop.
Doing some major work at the moment. I should be very proud of myself. C. should be in town by now, where the hell is he?
I find it really hard to sleep in this house. It took me almost three years to be comfortable in my old place at night, the creaks and groans our house made spooked me good. My adopted neighhbourhood is noisy at night -- last night someone was making the sound L. and I use to call our cat, a kind of half-whisper, half-whistle sound. This person was right below my bedroom window, presumably calling their own cat or dog. The situation was very creepy. I hope I can get some shuteye tonight, I'm expecting a friend moving here from out of town tomorrow. I'm laying off the horror movies and weird comics for awhile.
Oh sweet Buddha, my hands are burnin' up over here. I can't even type anymore. . .
So there was five of us, and we made our way up Mt. Seymour. There are three peaks to check out before you reach Seymour's summit, which is about 1451 metres. The weather was incredible, a little hot but you can find shady spots along the trail. We had the fortune of seeing a black bear (about 2 years old), two huge ravens and a male buck chewing on some grass near the trail. And a Jack Russell terrier - he was hanging out at Mystery Lake. There's a smaller trail that that bends away from the main trail as you leave/return from the parking lot that takes you to the lake, the coolest alpine lake I've seen in awhile. Lots of alpine bluberries to nibble on.
Because I'm a little sore and tired, I'll encapsulate my weekend in point form:
1. Went to the birthday party and it was a blast. Made lots of noise and drank too much.
2. The party began to wind down at one in the morning, so we went bike riding in the industrial area along the harbour. Keep in mind, I'm not a strong cyclist and I've only just started riding a few years ago. We biked for about three hours, we cruised the city streets past the clubbers and madness.
3. Crashed at my friend's place, slept for two hours then headed home to clean up and get ready for the hike.
4. Hiked, came home, slept alot, now I'm here.
Lost track of time there, leisure/writing/reading sprees can do that to a man.
So, I'm gonna help a friend tidy up his house in a few moments (luckily he lives around the corner) 'cause some friends are going over there for his belated birthday party. I'm going to go out on a limb and say I'm not coming home sober. or unbruised.
I couldn't sleep at all last night, and as I sipped my chamomile tea I banged out a few lines for the script and took some notes for the short story. I gave myself a deadline for the story -- I have until September 1st to have a completed draft, plus notes for the next two stories. If I don't hike this weekend (and bore everyone with a subsequent travelogue) then I will isolate myself from the world and work.
I set out for some kayaking on Monday, and it was dope. We started out a little early, but the dang bus was late, so we decided to take another route to get up to Deep Cove. That put us behind a little bit but because it turned out to be such a nice day the situation was not at all terrible. After an embarassing attempt at trying to get my feet onto the pedals (when I first kayaked we had no pedals! This was a new development for me.) we set out. We rented the boats for only a couple of hours, though that was enough time to enjoy the water. I love to pour on some muscle and let the kayak soar, L. and I were silent as ninjas as we glided across the smooth water. We paddled near the first bend of Indian Arm, checked out a massive rock that seemed to have been shot out of the water, then we made our way back to the dock. I was crusted with salt water, and I tasted it on my lips for the rest of the day. I met up with R. for some chess and food, and came to the realization that chess is actually quite theraputic - my method of play reflects some aspects of my personality. Interesting.
School was a big hassle. I applied on Monday online, but was denied all my classes. I called the registars ofice and found that my program only allowed me access to certain classes. I rode the train to school this morning and had them change my program to Arts, so now I can take archeaology! Which I am. Well, introduction to archeaology. I applied for my courses in the library and now I'm good to go.
I did some writing and research today, and I plan to definitely do more later. I hear dinner being made. I'm going out for gelato after dinner and watch the sun go down. Maybe at the park. Now I'm tired.
1. Summer semester is finished. A very successful venture, to be sure.
2. Picked up research material for the short stories. I will be hunting for material related to the comic ASAP. I am brimming with new ideas, as a result of getting as much history in me as possible. One small revelation: the world does indeed make sense, but it's very complicated and sometimes, it gets really strange.
3. I am enjoying the rest of the summer. Besides reading and writing, I am going sea kayaking on Monday and I plan to get some hiking done before September hits me like a hurricane! Reward yourself if you get my reference. I have no idea where I'm going this year, though. Definitely not Squamish.
Books I am reading:
Still on Shadows over Baker Street, Science: A History 1543-2001, The Greatest Benefit to Mankind: A Medical History of Humanity from Antiquity to the Present, returning to Quicksilver, still giving Living My Life a casual read, and Up Above the World by Paul Bowles (thanks K.). I just picked up a new comic called Singularity 7. It's OK.
It is currently raining out. That's what I love about this time of year: the rain is a sweet repose from the flesh-melting heat of August. Take that UV rays! You're not searing me today!
I have come to the conclusion that I suck at games. All games. I continually lose to other (mostly male) players all the time. Board games, video games, and especially sports. I think it mostly has to do with the fact that I was never a competitive person growing up. I never played sports, and I never joined any kind of gaming club. I was content to hide in my room and draw, write stories (or make up stories using toys) and practice magic tricks. The drive to crush my opponent was never installed into my personality. I guess 'cause I never showed any interest in competitive activities my folks never bothered signing me up. My parents are cool like that.
I do believe, however, that the competitive drive is unhealthy and very destructive, especially in men. I spent most of my early school days not even bothering to try in gym class, I simply went limp or walked in circles or did a half-ass job at the activities. Whenever I did try and was kinda successful, the gym teachers just shrugged their shoulders and muttered a "meh" and then cheered on the gym keeners. So I responded with a "f*ck it." What's funny though, is that if a male doesn't live up to the expectations set out by the curriculum (which is so freakin' gendered), then there must be something terribly, terribly wrong with that male. And the kicker? All the stupid keeners start picking on you, and use your performance (or lack thereof) in the gym as some demented yardstick to measure your worth as a human being.
So a message to all the kids out there who hate gym: it is a waste of time. Do everything possible to avoid it - call in sick, tell them your religion forbids you to take part, whatever it takes. You can even protest, questioning the value of "physical education" by pointing out that most North Americans are obese, so obviously no one is getting "educated".
The rooftop (courtesy of W., thanks dude!) that gave us a 360 degree of the city, provided a brilliant backdrop to a reunion of sorts. We chatted over some of the highlights of living on the Island and all the crazy cats we knew and loved. I've alsways said that going back there and bumping into people I haven't seen in a while begin to look like ghosts, or the experience is like stumbling upon a ghost.
It seems like everyone there last night is doing well with their lives. One is teacher, another one is gonna be an editor. Writers, revolutionaries, programmers, painters, adventurers. . .yeah, I'm very proud of the old crew. More later.
A Picture Share!
Originally uploaded by doctor paradox.
As you can tell by my friend here, the presentation, while a little scattered, went remarkably well. I cracked some jokes and they ate'em up. I can never answer peoples questions though, I freeze up and forget how to talk. It was gross. But everything else was lovely. Time for booze!
Delgamuukw: We want to claim this territory as our traditional land.
Province: Ummm, no.
Del: Why not?
Prov: Well, you guys didn't sign a treaty, and you have no proof that you have always been here.
Del: Signing a treaty means surrendering our land to the Crown, so no thanks. And as far as proving we've been here all this time, we have an oral tradition that binds us to this land that dates back longer than European colonization .
Prov: You must be kidding! Oral tradition? That kind of evidence is as flimsy as my granny's oatmeal! There is no documentation to prove your claim, so therefore our answer is still a resounding "no".
So Delgamuukw takes the province to court, and after the first trial (which was practically rigged) and an appeal Delgamuukw wins his case. This set a precedent in future Aboriginal land claims in B.C., and gave Aboriginal communitites some leverage when dealing with corporations that want to harvest natural resources on their land.
I am going to focus on the initial ruling, and the use of oral history as a source of evidence. Wish me luck.
Wish me luck on this project. Only three classes left, two exams next week and a short final paper. I am counting down the days.
So begins our sordid tale, as our hero wastes his time browsing superhero websites, unaware of the hammer of doom swinging above his head. . .
One complaint and then you can go: I have a group presentation on Friday. There is one other member in my illustrious group. I have talked to this person on two occasions - at the beginning of the term and last week. I have nothing to bring on Friday. I have four days. The tension mounts.
Some writing projects I'm working on at the moment. The reason I'm getting this down is to keep myself tuned in to the good writing mojo. Oh yeah, I write drafts and add notes on my Live Journal account: http://www.livejournal/users/j_sting.com
Comic book: The big mutha of a project. I hate the working title so I'm not going to share it.
Film script: A zombie love story that looks at social pressures. 'Nuff said.
Short stories: Historical fiction/mystery/Weird Tales/pulp sci-fi mags from the fifties.
Poetry: I write this stuff all the freakin' time.
Stupid Indy. . .I can hear the racecars humming around the track. . .
. . .
So to soothe my troubles, I decided to conduct a little experiment. Now, ladies and gentleman, brace yourselves. What I have to tell you may be shocking, so disturbing that you might tear out your hair upon hearing this.
I like 99 cent pizza.
Now, in my opinion the best cheap slice place in town is Pizza Garden. The ingredients are generally fresh, the slices are not drowning in grease, and there is a good selection of veggie choices (not just "garden" and "spicy"). But recently, a classmate introduced me to Uncle Fatima's (sp?) Pizza. Unc's is a bit more expensive, but holy Jesus on a bicycle I never thought broccoli would taste good on a pizza, but it does. There is so much flavour, the ingredients leap off the slice.
So this afternoon I made a trip to both. The verdict? Pizza Garden was exceptionally greasy today, and one of the options was a sun-dried tomatoe, pineapple and black olive pizza. It wasn't bad, the pineapple and tomatoe gave it a juicy, lively bite, then it was rounded off with the earthy olives. I also ordered the pesto, and it was dry and totally uninsipired. Unc's, on the other hand, offered a pizza with a virtual buffet on the slice. Very generous. Unfortunately, the vegetables didn't work together, the flavours were just mashed together to make the classic "salad" flavour of veggie pizza. I will consider this experiment to be round one.
Picked up Shadows Over Baker Street from the library - a collection of short stories by prolific writers of sci-fi, horror, fantasy and mystery. What are these stories about, you ask? Well, I'm glad you asked. Imagine Sherlock Holmes, plus Watson, Mycroft and Irene Adler, and put them into Lovecraft's world. Yup, one of my favourite fictional characters going up against the Old Ones! Oh, and I'm reading Emma Goldman's "Living my Life" and a bunch of other stuff. But Sherlock Holmes! Cthulhu!
It's funny how I'm comforted by knowing what all my friends are doing at the moment. One is out hiking (lucky bastard!), one is here in town, a few are on the Island living out their lives. There's a couple of friends in Alberta, but because I have no idea what they're up to I get all diconcerted over their absense. You would think, with such advanced telecommunications, people would remain connected like they're on a long daisy chain. It's too bad technology is shaped by the human heart.
Heh. "Your head a splode".
I don't know how I feel about missing ComicCon this year. I mean, I've missed it since I was born, so I feel I'm not really too worried about it. It would be a neat opportunity to rub up against the bigwigs and then get thrown out by security. But you have to, like, pay to talk to people? I should start doing that.
Elderly Lady: "Excuse me young man, would you know where. . ."
Me: "Whoa, let's press pause for a moment. If you want anything outta me it's not going to be cheap, but possibly messy."
Elderly Lady: "But I just want to know where the bus stop is. . ."
Me: "And I want a cyborg pony. It's a bad day for both of us. Luckily, directions to the bus stop are on special today."
Elderly Lady: "Oh? May I ask how much?"
I'm halfway through The Iron Wagon adapted by Jason (I don't recall the original writer) and to date it is my favourite "recent" work put out. I can only read the latest comics a year after they come because my funds are in a strangle hold. Jason uses negative space like a master, creating a palatable tension between the characters with a simple palette: red, black and muted paper-bag brown. I'm a huge fan of nineteenth-twentieth century European literature (Witold Grobowicz is spooky and cool. . .spookier and cooler than goths! Well, that's not too difficult) and seeing a novel adaptation in my "field" is pretty exciting.
Just picked up my first Bacchus comic (Eddie Campbell, From Hell) and 1,001 Nights of Bacchus is a lovely read. I find Campbells line work more "free" looking, more spontaneous than his work in From Hell, except when he draws Bacchus and then he gets very tight and serious. I'm getting really stuck on Astro City (Vol. 2) now. It seems these days I only have time for poetry and comics, and I'm only reading poetry I already have but never gave myself a chance to explore. I'm very fond of Hart Crane at the moment, particularly The Bridge, which I believe is his most important book.
I missed the local poerty fest that happened a week ago! All the local bigwigs made an apperance, there must have been over twenty-five poets! I had company from out of town, and I didn't want to drag them out. Bitter? A little.
Now this bald frog, who keeps a yellow jar under his arm to hold all the flies he catches, was napping in a hollow pumpkin in Farmer Needle's field. You see, the frog had no name, and a storm had swept him away from his beloved pond and he had to live in this field. He really missed his pond y'know, he missed the way the sunlight rippled across the water, and bright green lily pads bobbed on the waves like little boats. And the thing is, y'see, when animals are taken away from their homes, they lose their real name. I don't know why that is, maybe Nature gets too sad and wants to forget Her friend's name so She won't feel so bad, who knows? Ask the crows sometime, I'm sure they would like to tell you why. Anyway, the frog is sleeping in his pumpkin when a stork landed nearby and waltzed over to see what there is to see, and lo and behold a little frog with a yellow jar under his arm was snoozing inside a pumpkin! The stork lowered his head slowly, so very slowly, to gobble up our friend the frog. But just as the stork was about to catch the frog, our brave little amphibian tossed the jar into the storks mouth! The jar, however, got stuck in the stork's throat, and he squawked and flapped his wings and ran around in circles! The frog perched on the edge of his pumpkin and chuckled. The stork saw him and asked:
"Mr. Frog! Mr. Frog! You must help me! If I can't get this jar out of my throat I won't be able to eat!"
The frog replied, "my dear sir, if I were to remove said jar, you will eat me!"
"I promise I will not!" cried the stork, but the frog knew better.
"Before I help you, you must answer one question for me" said the frog.
"Very well" replied the stork.
"What is the one thing you hate to eat the most?" asked the sly frog.
"Well," mused the stork, "I like to eat frogs (you already knew that) and I love to eat fish, but I really hate eating those who wear wigs"
The frog grinned and said, "If you wait a moment, I will help you."
So the frog dashed away and collected hay from the field and wove a handsome wig, then using a little mud he attached it to his head. He returned to the stork, who was taken aback by the sight of the frog's wig!
"Mr. Frog, what a ghastly thing on your head! I cannot eat you, not in a million years!"
The frog then crawled into the stork's mouth, being careful not to fall, and grabbed the jar, and in one pull the jar popped out of the stork's throat and the frog with his yellow jar landed back into his pumpkin.
"Mr. Frog! You saved me! But since I can't eat you, then maybe I can help you get back to your pond, a pumpkin is no place for a fine frog such as yourself!"
The frog agreed, and the stork let the frog climb onto his back and the two flew back to the frog's pond. Now, the frog was given his name back, but an animal's real name is kept secret from people, what do you think his name is?
Too much blood, and too much uncertainity and fear. Some people have that in large doses in their lives, and yet some pour into their hearts like it's made of chocolate. Not to brag, but I have seen films that can make the steeliest stomach projectile vomit on the ceiling, and at the moment my soul could use a rest.
. . .and soda. . .inflates me like a balloon. . .spent half of a three hour class. . .bubbling and burping. . .oh god. . .
It seems to me that the Comics Journal, to a degree, are embarassed by their roots, like those who are ashamed of bringing their cousin from the Ozarks to a party. Yes, superheroes still dominate the comics market, and yes the Big Two has royally screwed distribution, and yes most marketing goes to superheroes than to indies, and yes in some ways the superhero genre distorts public perception of what comics really are and what comics can be; holding back an "evolution" of the medium. What is important though, (my dad would say: "what you don't understand is, son. . .") is to be careful on how history is constructed. From the Comics Journal perspective, the superhero genre was unsophisticated, perpetuated stereotypes and damaged the market (which is true) but that's all it was, nothing more. Correct me if I'm wrong, but that is not a balanced representation of history. When historical facts are ignored or modified, it changes the reality of the subject supported by those facts. The result? New social meanings are assigned to the subject, meanings that can repluse or attract. In the case of the Comics Journal, the goal is to repluse. Please don't interpet this an anti-Journal tract, I still read and enjoy the Journal (just lower your price a bit, *nudge nudge wink wink*) at every opportunity, but caution must be taken if the Journal wishes to keep an elitist, oligarchical hold on the medium.
Bakunin - The Philosophy of Freedom, Brain Morris: I found Morris to be overly critical of Bakunin, possibly to sound objective? Had to return to library. Phooey.
Anarchy! - An Anthology of Emma Goldman's Mother Earth, ed. Peter Glassgold: Bloody good. I danced around my house in a drunken stupor as I read this. Auntie Em was so awesome, she made the men in her era look like complete fools. She will be the subject of many papers, that's fer sure. I would like
to tie in her anti-war articles with Gertrude Stein's work during World War 2.
What Right? - Graphic Interpetations Against Censorship, ed. Robin Fisher: This was fun to read over, it's nice to read comics I haven't seen before from familiar artists. What can I say? Censorship is a complex issue, and it becomes dangerous when we begin talking about expressing political views in the current social atmosphere. Can radical leftists participate in public dialogue, knowing that the public sphere constrains and contorts?
Comics? Oh yes. Walking Dead, Iron Wagon, Astro City, getting through V for Vendetta, Y the Last Man, just picked up Street Angel #2 and it's so much fun.
How the hell can I explain a complex subject, like cultural appropiation in, like, 200 words? What, you want me to write a freakin' haiku?
White author writes story
About Rainbow Serpent
Without cultural context
And before you start counting syllables, and I know you are, contemporary haiku is not necessarily dependant on the 5-7-5 meter. O.K. I feel better. Thank you.
Oh, and I spelled "unfortunately" wrong on a testimonial I wrote for Friendster. *Groan*